Many of you do not have the big big love for anger. (Digression: Did you hear that the Pixies are getting back together? I heard that they are. Who wants to go?)
I am not one of these people. I am, in fact, anger’s biggest fan. Oh, no, you say. Jennie! Don’t be angry. It’s so unattractive. It’s so bad for you. You’ll get high blood pressure. No one will invite you to their parties.
Well fuck you. I am gorgeous in a high irish. Everyone invites me to their parties. They all want to have sex with me when I’m angry, that’s how hot I am — all of them, gay men, straight women, everybody.
In addition to making me absolutely beautiful, my anger has made me strong. I can lift you right up, just like the Incredible Hulk. I can smash through walls like Mr. Kool-Aid. I am only five foot two, but I have the proportionate strength of an ant. Find me a giant piece of corn. I will carry it over my head.
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